


Redemption

by Dwinarnith



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Betrayal, Blood, Blood Elves, Cataclysm, Death Knight, F/M, Gen, Love, Mage, Medical Trauma, Murder, Psychological Trauma, Shaman - Freeform, Trolls, Undead, Unrequited Love, Violence, Warrior - Freeform, Wrath of the Lich King
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwinarnith/pseuds/Dwinarnith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kael'thas Sunstrider has a younger brother, Keenan, who the council has decided will take his place. But first, they send him on a quest. He believes this quest is to test his strength and ability as a leader. Keenan wants nothing more than to prove he is not like Kael'thas, save for a well kept secret. But, this quest has a darker purpose.</p><p>Please note that for the most part, these are original characters based on in-game tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not a Priest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and the setting belong to Blizzard Entertainment. 
> 
> All of the main characters are Original Characters. I wrote this right after the release of the Lich King expansion so, it was a while ago. 
> 
> I am Dwinarnith of Winterhoof (US) and I hope you enjoy! Glory to the Sin'dorei!!! (and yes I am a blood elf rogue and so I love blood elves. Sue me. I also love the pandaren but that's beside the point.)  
> For the Horde!
> 
> I apologize in advance for throwing you right in the middle of things. I love media res but keep reading. It gets better, I promise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start at the beginning with the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own W.O.W. Blizzard Entertainment does!  
> The first chapter is in Malaya's POV.  
> Enjoy!

The young prince Sunstrider is sent on a “mission” to investigate new demonic energies. But little does he know the elders have sent him on a test that will decide if he ascends to the throne, or is killed by the companion he trusts most.

Malaya:Blood Elf Warrior and Prince Sunstrider's body guard

Keenan Sunstrider: Blood Elf Mage

Alastar: Hired Undead scout

Malaya's POV:

“Please, allow me to assist… I know his anatomy in a way you do not. I can save him.”  She hesitated. Trusting Alastar to guide them through the Plaguelands was difficult. And certainly it was unheard of, undead guiding elves to a forest. Still, there were not many options. She was no priest and this wasn’t just another elf. He is the key to their mission. She is simply his escort.  Malaya weighed the situation over again. If she didn’t decide soon, Keenan would surely die. They cannot afford to fail. “Then save him.” Alastar didn’t seem to hear her command as he began removing Keenan’s robe. His hands worked quickly at the delicate fabrics, careful not to tear them further. Once Keenan’s bare chest was exposed, he started cleaning the wound. She watched him solemnly while also keeping an eye on Keenan’s face. Sweat had pocked his brow and she knew he already had a fever. Alastar looked up abruptly from his work.

                “Help me elf.” His gaze never wavered from his still working hands. “I need you to stop the blood from coming.” A slight pit ran up from her stomach and into her tightened throat. When she did not answer, he turned and looked pointedly at her. “Are you faint?”

                “No.” she lied. He went back to his task. “Then help me.” She kneeled down beside them and waited for instruction. When none came, she held her hands out over the hole in Keenan’s chest; in his heart. Alastar sighed and grumbled his complaint. “Not with magic! Do you not know? Clamp his artery shut.” She wasn’t quite sure what an artery was, or how to clamp it. “Bring your hands to the top of his heart and pinch the reddest tube with the tips of your fingers.” She felt an urge to vomit coming on but resisted as she placed her hands on his heart. The warm soft tissue pulsed firmly beneath her fingers. When she squeezed, the artery wriggled underneath her grip before finely becoming at rest. She tried not to think about the wetness…or the pulsing. In a way, it was kind of like holding a small animal still, pinching the nape of its neck. 

                Eyes closed, she started reciting Thalassian songs in her head. It took every ounce of her concentration to not think about her hands. She found herself singing the lament of the highborn under her breath. Her mind wandered to a time long past. She was very young when the Quel’dorei fell. Her mother had given her life, like so many others, trying to restore the sunwell, drained of mana and left for dead. Her father had followed Prince Kael’Thas Sunstrider and ended up hunting demons in outland. He followed Kael’Thas to the bitter end, dying as one of the wretched felblood elves. It shamed her to be so dependent on dark forces for mana. She vaguely recalled the effects of magic withdrawal and shuttered. Nothing was worth that feeling. A twisted mess of guilt, shame, and agony that left you hollow was no way to live. In those times, before the prince’s betrayal, she had hoped, but so often it had seemed a lost cause. Her mind was frequently drifting between “Give in to your desires” and “Let go.”    

                Even now the voices seemed to be calling to her; though, they were not as distant as they should have been. In truth, one voice seemed to be close enough to touch. “Let go…” it whispered. Growing louder, she was astonished that it was now yelling at her, “Let go! Daft fool! Release!” It unsettled her to hear this harsh voice with such clarity. Without warning, she found herself being shaken rapidly. It only took a moment for her eyes to refocus on her surroundings. Alastar was inches from her, covered in blood. The stench of him left not the ghost, but the full taste of blood in her mouth. She shied reflexively away from him. “You are killing this one.” He said softer. She looked down, remembering Keenan and her bloody hands for the first time. For a brief moment, terror reined her.

                She forced her hands to release their hold on his heart. The instant they had left it, Alastar was working again. She stared blankly at her hands, her bloody hands, then at Keenan. _Sin’dorei_ , she thought. A name fitting to their current situation, she reasoned. Looking beyond him, she gazed at the trees not far off, the western plaguelands. The scourge were just beyond those trees. Rage twisted into a deadly tonic in her gut. Why are they even doing this? Arthas was dead. The scourge should have dissipated with Bolvar Fordragon. And now, of all things, Queen Azshara is living! She is the true cause of all this madness that the Sin’dorei have endured.

                Keenan made a small guttural sound as she felt him touch her leg. She turned her mind and her gaze back to him. Relief threatened to manifest itself but she knew better. Nothing is finished. Respite would do them little good. “Don’t,” she cautioned him. “Try to be still.” Alastar was bandaging Keenan’s bare upper body. She watched him methodically lift and wrap the antibiotic soaked cloth into a tight pact. Keenan shifted in anguish as each strand made the full circle around his torso. 

                She wondered how far they really were from Undercity. Was it possible to port there? She doubted it. Keenan wasn’t well enough for that. Not to mention, they were running out of time. Going there would only set them back a day’s journey. She looked at Keenan worriedly. The mage was staring back at her intently, as if he was drawing the strength to stay awake from her. Still, a healer would allow him to assist her once more. In this condition, he is of little use to their mission. He was going to be a burden as well. And, there was the blood. The scourge would be attracted by the scent of it. They were all heavy with the balm of it. “Alastar, is there any water nearby?”

                The undead was cutting the last strand of cloth, beginning to tie it. He didn’t answer as he finished. Keenan was breathing heavy, exhausted with pain. “Uhn, I can conjure water.” He leaned forward in an attempt to rise. What was he thinking? Conjuring in his condition? She was about to say something but it was Alastar who spoke first. “Be still boy.” It only took a smooth swipe of his hand to send Keenan back to the ground. She winced in unison with him. He isn’t even strong enough to fight back. Alastar sighed. As he cleaned his tools he addressed her inquiry. “There is Darrowmere Lake to the south and Thondroril River straight ahead, to the east. Though Darrowmere is closer, it is the holding of the school of necromancy. We are likely to be captured.” 

                She debated whether to chance travel with the scent of blood or being caught. They would attract attention either way. Which was more perilous? “How Far behind is the Bulwark?” The undead peered back in the direction from which they had come. He shook his head. “There is no hope of reaching it before nightfall.” They couldn’t risk night travel. That was not an option. 

“What about the river?”

“It is not far off. The Thondroril River is the divide of the Plaguelands.”

“How soon will we reach it?” she asked hopeful, in spite of herself.

“We could reach it by dusk.” He paused and placed two boney fingers on Keenan’s neck. Keenan opened his eyes, evidently startled by the sudden touch. “That is” he continued, “if we can all walk.” Keenan glared at him but there was no anger in his eyes. To her, they seemed very far away. She sighed. Keenan won’t make it that far. He shouldn’t even be moving, let alone walking. Summoning a mount was out of the question. It would be too conspicuous. She couldn’t support his weight for that distance and keep pace with Alastar. What options are left besides Darrowmere?

                “Malaya,” a light touch rested on her arm. She met Keenan’s eyes. They weren’t as far now; they were fierce with conviction. “We must reach the river.” She continued to hold his gaze and said nothing. He tried to prop himself into a sitting position and was again thwarted by Alastar’s quick hand.  “Still.” He grumbled. Keenan’s glare had a bit of fire to it this time. She surmised that to be a good sign. Defiantly, he rose again only to be foiled by the none too happy undead. “I said _still_ you ungrateful thorn. Heed me, or I will tighten those bandages.” He rasped. Keenan didn’t attempt a third try.

               She knew he was right, though. They had to move. Dusk was upon them and they would surely have unwanted company soon. But Keenan’s ability to walk was little to none. A yowl of pain brought her out of her thoughts. Alastar, though twice as small, was holding Keenan in his arms like a large child. His face was contorted with some emotion she couldn’t place, perhaps discomfort? He began to walk, leaving her to follow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and constructive criticisms are always welcomed! I hope you enjoyed it!^^


	2. Death Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of new characters. Who Doesn't like death knights and trolls?

Malaya' POV:

They reached the river with only moments of light to spare. She quickly began washing as Alastar tended to Keenan and himself. Though it wasn’t the time for it, she briefly relished the cool water on her skin. Now that her hands were clean, she felt more at ease. The feeling didn’t last. Her back went rigid. She sensed a threat. It was coming fast; too fast to evade. “Brace yourself.” Alastar whispered somewhere to her right. He must sense it as well. She took a defensive stance, drawing her sword. Whatever it was, it sounded so close, it was practically on top of them. She recognized the sound of hooves and clashing metal. Who would be off the roads mounted at this hour and obviously taking no caution to be quiet? 

                Out of the trees, a death charger emerged followed by a raptor. The riders were trolls, no doubt. They came to a stop and waited. She glanced quickly down at Keenan who was unconscious again. Alastar was crouched defensively over him, dagger in hand, staring at them. The trolls loomed in the distance but came no closer. Why weren’t they attacking? What are they waiting on? The death knight stepped down from his stead as yet another death charger approached. This second death knight would be on them soon. She panicked. The charger was too close. Fear made her careless. She rushed the troll with unmatched speed. Her sword struck his armor square in the abdomen but it made no difference. He laughed and picked her up by her cloak. She kicked him hard but he didn’t seem bothered by it. He turned to look at the still mounted troll with a grin. “Spirited one, isn’t she?” The other troll chuckled. She kicked the death knight’s helm while he was distracted. It fell to the dirt with a thud. He turned back to her, rubbing his jaw with his free hand. “Easy woman!” Much to her surprise, he set her down gently on her feet. Was he giving up that easily? No, he must want her to drop her guard so he could rush Keenan, but then…why put her down?

                “You sure do hav spirit, mon. I’ll give ya dat.” He bent over to recover his helm. She just watched him, confused. “So den, who be you?” She hesitated. Was he really being friendly, not only a death knight, but a troll? The other death charger came out from the brush and the rider climbed down and strode right up to her too quickly. She struck at the new death knight but the blood elf knight parried her attack. Her weapon was knocked out of her hands. The female death knight seized her by the hair causing her to wince. “Were I you warrior, I would save my rage for an enemy.” She released her.

“By the looks of you, you are still loyal to the hoard. Why did you attack my knight?”

She looked between the two death knights, confused. How had she known that? She wasn’t here yet.

“General,” the troll said. “I believe she was defending her wounded.” He nodded towards Keenan. Alastar had put away his dagger but was still hovering.   

“I’m Malaya Sunrider.” She said to the Female death knight wanting to draw attention away from Keenan.

“General Vivora Starstrider of the ebon blade. You’ve met my Captain.”

“Da name’s Zuni” the troll greeted. “And dat’s Zul’jin Zanzi. He’s da druid dat we be taken’ to Tyr’s Hand to speak with Lord Valdelmar.”

“A Human?” She asked skeptical.

“Well, da details are not important. Let’s just say Hearthglen is ready to be rid of da scarlets. ” He looked beyond her where Alastar was standing over Keenan. She tensed and tried to read his face. Zuni remained placid. “I take it he’s not sleeping?”

“No, he’s been wounded.” She felt guilty saying it out loud.

“Ya don’t say?” He looked at Zanzi. 

“Ya wouldn’t mind heal’n da boy, Zul’jin?” He asked Zanzi

                Zanzi slowly dismounted and walked over to kneel beside Keenan. Alastar did not shift his position but Zanzi started to heal regardless. There was a long silence as Zanzi healed. The healing light faded. He waited another moment before tapping Keenan’s face. Keenan opened his eyes. They wildly searched and finely landed on Zanzi startled. Zanzi simply smiled at him. “Dat’s deh best I can do. I’ll leave deh rest ta you.” Keenan gradually got to his feet and surveyed the odd scene before him. His gaze finely ended on her. “Who are they?” he asked her. Zuni laughed.

“Who be you?” Zuni asked him.

Keenan seemed perplexed by the question but answered anyway.

“Keenan Lightrunner.” He said too quickly.

“Nice ta meech’ya, mon.” 

                Alastar was no longer hovering around Keenan, she noticed. He was conversing with Zanzi animatedly. By the motions he was making with his hands, she imagined it had something to do with Keenan’s injury. General Vivora leaned close so that only she could hear. “You fight like an orc, Sin’dore. Exercise more self control.” She jumped at the sound of her voice. Vivora stepped forward towards Keenan. “How did you end up so severely wounded?” The general was talking to Keenan, but she felt that the question was really meant for her. Keenan only regarded her briefly with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. She bit her lip in a nervous habit. Keenan still held a grudge towards Arthas and his dead children. She hopped he would act normal. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. Come again?” The death knight pressed. Keenan wrested his gaze away from the sky and looked at her blankly as if she hadn’t said anything. She nodded gravely. “I see.” What? What did she see? Could she know what had transpired this morning? Or did she see through the disguise? Malaya willed Keenan to not say anything. “I know your kind. Sleep it off then. You will tell us in the morning when you are feeling less superior.” 

                 That guaranteed a reaction from him. He narrowed his eyes in an intentional glare. “Do not presume to command me.” He paused and then with a rueful smile added, “And I care little for what you know.” He smirked at her. “Insolent child.” She chided. The death night’s claymore was drawn in an instant and pointed directly at Keenan. He shifted his eyes in Malaya’s direction with an impish look. She felt the urge to do something, but reminded herself about the previous times she had rushed into things. She needed to be careful. Keenan winked at her and turned back to General Vivora. _Keenan no._ she thought. This was a repeat of the day before. Only then, her rushing had almost ended his life. But Vivora re-sheathed her weapon with a sigh. Her face portrayed something close to relief. “Giving up?” Keenan inquired. Vivora smirked at him lightheartedly. “Watch your quick tongue.” 

“I cannot see it.” He retorted. 

Zuni laughed and Vivora simply smiled.

“Shall I cut it out so you can?” She placed a hand on the hilt of her claymore.

“A generous offer, but no.” He shook his head.  

She lowered her hand. “Do not abuse your position child. I am not a Sin’dore. You do not hold authority over me.”

                Could Vivora know about Keenan’s real identity? Keenan wasn’t helping things by flaunting. Sometimes, she felt that he was still a child. But, he understood something Kael’Thas did not. There is true power in restrain. She could only hope that he wouldn’t end up corrupted with power, like his brother. But if he didn’t pass this test, if it came to that, she would have to end it. She would have to kill him. The grim thought must have shown on her face because they were all staring at her. But the worst set of eyes was Keenan’s. They were a blended mess of anger, betrayal, confusion, and hurt. So far, Keenan had kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t mentioned or even asked about her attacking him. She desperately hoped she could do the same. That she would be able to leave Keenan in the dark until it was over. She knew it wasn’t likely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave helpful comments and I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Possessive Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keenan has a nightmare. It's time for dead secrets to be unearthed. What fun! 
> 
> Keenan's POV:

                Keenan awoke around midnight. He couldn’t sleep with thoughts of Malaya looming about him, threatening to penetrate his dreams. He turned over in his knapsack, restless. Why had she tried to kill him? That _is_ what she was doing. He was sure of it. But her motive confused him. When the elders had gathered to discuss if he should replace Kael’Thas, she had vouched for him. Malaya had been his protector whenever she was home since he was an infant. Sure she was jumpy, but was she really that afraid of him? He considered her a close friend. He thought she felt the same. But friends don’t randomly attempt to kill one another, not without cause. So what was her cause? She hadn’t seemed bloodlust or even remorseful when she had struck him. Malaya had actually been very composed, businesslike. Had she been hired to kill him? Surely not. Even if she had, Malaya wouldn’t have accepted. Despite her attack on him, he still believed they were dear friends. 

                Perhaps she was being controlled? That is always a possibility. Yet, there was no one around at the time besides Alastar. As far as he knows, the undead doesn’t possess any arcane affinities. He could not have controlled Malaya. Not against her will, at least. What if she had thought he was an imposter in disguise? But then, if she had, she wouldn’t have struck so hard. Would she? He could recall the scene with vivid detail.

                 His face was a mask of shock as her blade prodded through his sternum like butter. He hadn’t even felt it cut his heart until the first beat. The blade lingered there for several. Actually, it lingered in his throbbing heart for almost fifteen minutes, if he was remembering correctly. As if Malaya hadn’t meant to kill him. Like it was an accident and she was leaving the blade in so as to stop the bleeding. He briefly remembered her talking with Alastar. “Save him.” She had said. If she meant to kill him, why would she say such a thing? Not only that, but he had also felt her. At the time, he was in such pain that it was hard to stay alert. He wasn’t aware that her hands had been inside of him, keeping him alive, until he felt her presence leave him. It had begun to hurt more after her absence. As if she was keeping him from feeling. The feeling was what had woke him up. And when he had slipped back into consciousness, a bloody Malaya was there caringly looking over him, holding him up as Alastar bandaged him.

                No, she hadn’t meant to kill him. Or rather, she had not _wanted_ to. But why then did she attack him so harshly? Was she testing him and he’d failed? Did she expect him to protect himself? How could he have? She had caught him completely off guard. Not only was he busy experimenting with demonic energy from a plaguehound, but she was the last person he would have expected such treachery from. Their relationship went far beyond friends. He is her _prince_ and she is _his_ bodyguard. It’s her job to keep him alive! Why then had she made an attempt against his life?

                Keenan contemplated her actions, miffed. Despite her reasons, she had stuck him nonetheless. It was easier to believe she had meant to spare him but it felt like she had only prolonged his suffering. His hand slid cautiously over the raised line of flesh above his heart. It was rough to the touch. Anger seared him. Why had she done this to him? He would have rather died then be flawed in such a way. It wasn’t a scar that crossed his heart; it was a mark of betrayal. There was no glory or valor behind the scar. It could never be worn proudly. He would forever hold the memory in contempt. He would forever hold _her_ in contempt! But even as he thought it, it felt wrong and his anger evaporated.

                Had he really lost faith in her so quickly? She had been his only true friend at the end of the day, still with him regardless of his careless choices. She was more a mother to him than his own mother had ever been… even after he had shamed her. Though he was the only one who knew it, it was his fault she failed every assignment she was given. He knew she was something special from the first time he had seen her in action. She had been defending him, of course, but he hadn’t felt afraid at the time. Her lithe form had arced protectively with axe drawn close to her breasts, her knuckles were white gripped. Electricity sparked from her skin like white tendrils that seemed to radiate in waiting anticipation. Then, she lunged. It was a quick, subtle movement, but it was glorious. Her agile frame surged forward like a titanic force of nature, finite and inescapable. The swift blow was carried out with such precision; the man seemed to be nothing more than air. Pride had swelled within in him. Even a child could see her pristine ability. She was powerful and magnificent and she was _his_.

                That was why he had sabotaged everything she had done. He didn’t want her to be promoted and leave him, like all the others had done. He knew how selfish he had been but in childhood her suffering had meant little to him. His only concern was that she remained his to have and his alone. It only now occurred to him what he had been witnessing over the years. Why she seemed to lack the vigor and life she had once carried about her. She was absent of pride these days as well as joy. Malaya had slowly transformed into an overly cautious, apathetic individual, her constant failures making her hard and robbing her of honor. Guilt coursed through him.

                Once, he had even gone so far in his possessiveness to believe that he laid claim to her affections as well as her body. That was when he was a haughty adolescent not too long ago. Not only did he wish to have her in his bed, he wanted her to want it too. It wasn’t until he saw her with another, one of his father’s head mages, that he knew she didn’t feel the same. That one revelation had altered the course of his life. He had decided then to dedicate all of his time to the study of magic, knowing Malaya was drawn to mages in particular. He was very successful in his endeavor with one exception. That one mage would always have her favor. It hadn’t stopped him. He’d smugly cursed him in his sleep to remain sleeping until dawn, then snuck away to catch Malaya before she returned to her lover’s bed. The plan was simple, he would confront her with his feelings and, if she didn’t feel the same, he would request that she allow him to try. If she further refused, out of faithfulness, he would assure her that her lover was heavily sleeping and he would not speak of it after.  

                Malaya instead, had found him. He remembered being startled to see her rushing towards him with such ferocity. Gore covered the armor on her left shoulder from an unseen wound. She had seemed surprised to see him standing outside Vexation’s door. Obviously she had been there to alert her lover that they were under attack. But Keenan had won her immediate attention. Priority and duty had erased love and concern. She was a true guardian. Malaya had taken him away from Silvermoon to the safety of the North Sanctum and left him in the care of the guards there. The whole night had passed before he was allowed to return to the city. After dawn approached, images of a valiant arcane mage wiping out hundreds of opponents with a single blow played over in his head. He’d hoped that Vexation hadn’t woken to bravely participate in the fight. He was sure that his spell had been flawless and was quite pleased with himself, until he saw Malaya. She was on her knees beside a pile of wall and debris in a shattered hallway weeping. The air had been thick with the potent smell of death. It hadn’t taken him long to realize who’s room the rubble beside her had once been. She didn’t meet his eyes at first, but when they did they held his, accusing and disgusted. She hadn’t known about his spell, but she did know that he had been the reason she’d left and blamed him anyways.

                Keenan didn’t have to recall it to know that it was that event which had finely broken her confidence. Malaya had once told him that she could no longer be a warrior, but he’d convinced her she was being foolish. Guilt clutched at his gut. That had been so many years ago and yet he knew it still troubled her. He knew that if he were to stand beside her tent, he would hear her calling out Vexation’s name, beckoning for her dead lover. He knew that if she had really meant to kill him, she had a right to. It was then that he realized how concerned he was for her. She didn’t blame him for the loss of Vexation. She blamed herself. It wasn’t the fuel behind her attack. That gave him only one conclusion, something was terribly wrong. He sat up and surveyed the small encampment, eyes resting on Malaya’s tent.

                Should he talk with her? Ask her what she meant by it? He had never had a problem with talking to her before. _But she had never tried to kill me before either._ He thought silently to himself. Before he knew what his body was doing, he found himself standing barefoot in the dirt beside her tent. It was now or never. He didn’t have to crawl in to reach her. She always slept with her head very close to the opening, ready for an attack. He leaned down and shook her shoulder gently. She stirred but did not wake. He shook her a little harder. Malaya looked up groggily at him. It took her a few moments to register who he was. “Keenan? How are you feeling? Is something wrong?”  She was suddenly on her hands and knees crawling out of the tent. He moved to allow her room to exit. When he could see her full figure, he brought his eyes to the ground embarrassed, stifling a laugh. She glared at him, obviously not pleased to have been woken up to be laughed at. He composed himself, all deviousness forgotten, and pointed to her naked legs. “Your pants are missing.” He smiled to the dirt, careful not to look. 

                She made a quick movement and clad herself in the sheet she had been using as cover. The absence of pants didn’t seem to bother her. She was intent on a potential threat. He looked at her face. It was hard set and concerned.

“What is going on Keenan?” she asked urgently. 

“I…heard you in your sleep. You were calling for him again.” He lied, afraid to admit the real reason. Her face saddened and he was suddenly sorry he’d said it.

“I’m sorry I startled you. Do you feel any better?” He sensed her eagerness to change the subject.

“I do.” He admitted, not knowing what else to say.

“But?” she pressed. 

He hesitated. “I remember what happened. I don’t remember why.” He looked away, unable to meet her fixed stare. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! As always, please leave a comment if there is something I can improve on.


	4. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keenan confronts Malaya about her attack on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do a little POV change in the middle.  
> It starts off as Malaya.

She was glad he wasn’t looking at her. That meant he couldn’t see how guilty she felt. It was doubtful that her face wouldn’t betray her. For so long she had protected him, cared for him like a brother. Now she was the one hurting him, in more ways than physically. Would he ever forgive her if she did the unthinkable; if she told him the truth? Honestly, the answer wasn’t clear. All she could do was stare at him, his back to her. She had to muster enough courage to say _something_. If she didn’t now, she never would. “Keenan…” she started, at a loss of words. He didn’t turn to face her, but she knew he was holding his breath, tense. He expected the worst. She wished he was wrong. She wished it was that simple. It wasn’t.

“Keenan, I need to tell you why I’m here. But it won’t change anything.” She said, holding back tears. When he said nothing, she continued.

“I was given another assignment, to redeem myself. I was to guard you, like always, but that was not all. You’re intelligent Keenan, I assume you surmised this mission is a test, form the elders. But I doubt you fully understood. It’s not your bravery or your talent that concerns them.” She paused, not knowing how to finish; how to let the poison of her betrayal seep into him without killing him. He turned and met her gaze. It was her turn to turn away.

“Keenan, if you prove you can handle power, restrain it, then you are safe. If not…I have to deal with you.”

Silence.

She dared a look at him. It was a brief flicker of the eyes, but it was enough. He spoke.

“And by deal with me you mean…?”

“I would have to end it. Before you got out of control, like Kael’Thas.” Her voice was even, emotionless.

“You would kill me.” It wasn’t a question.

Malaya nodded mechanically and stood there, staring at her feet. Not sure if he had seen her nod, she added “Yes.” Keenan staggered a step away from her, as if he had suffered a large blow. She kept staring at the ground, unsure of how to continue. Keenan grabbed her shoulders, his grip iron tight. She risked looking him in the eyes. They were pleading. Her heart faltered for a moment; it skipped a beat. Resolve quickly returned and she braced herself for his attack on her, whether verbal or physical. No attack came. He dropped his hands but continued to hold her eyes. 

“Tell me Malaya. Would my death please you? To be rid of me at last?”

“ _Rid_ of you?” she repeated incredulous. “Keenan…”

“Would it please you?” He urged.

“No, I-” unsure of how to finish, she pulled him to her, embracing him. “I will follow you, Keenan.” He pulled away from her, perplexed by the common Thalassian phrase. Malaya let him go. She expected him to chastise her as he usually did when she displeased him. He didn’t. Keenan only stood, breathing in the night air. Then he turned back to her. 

“Why?” He sounded defeated. 

“Because Keenan, you are not your brother.” When the blank expression on his face did not wavier, she offered “If you must die by my hand, then I will die by that same hand. My Loyalty lies with you.” 

                Something close to rage, but too volatile to place, crossed his expression. The moonlight fell on him in that moment, enhancing the angular features of face. The sharpness of his high cheekbones, his slanted brow, made his visage look terrible, dangerous. “I am more like him than you will ever know.” His clenched fists where white knuckled. She could feel the shift in him. Keenan was correct in that moment. He truly felt as angry to her as Kael’Thas once had. Her previous misjudgment paled in comparison but it hadn’t been wrong. It was only the fore shadow of his true nature. This was the change she had been dreading.     

 

Keenan's POV:

 

                Keenan let the rage roil over him and seethe into every remorseful thought still harbored within him. Not his brother? He was every bit Kael’Thas if not more. His kingdom has suffered from his actions. He has murdered, lied, and been selfish beyond reason. But unlike his brother, he had gone a step further and ruined the only person who truly cared for him. Rage and remorse is a heavy tonic, but shame is heavier still. He dropped to his knees in resignation at her feet. “Your loyalty is wasted.” He said to the dirt. “Draw your weapon Malaya.” He listened to the metallic brushing of her armor as she rummaged for her claymore and the pause that followed. Malaya emerged from her tent and stopped only inches from him. Breath held he waited for justice to come crashing down upon him and with it peace: peace for himself and peace for Malaya. Tears turned the dirt before him into mud just as jealousy had turned Malaya into his undoing. _Justice and peace._  

 “No.” her claymore fell beside him. “I was wrong.” He sighed knowing that for peace, a price must be paid.

“There is a truth I must share with you. Then you may decide if I am not him.” He looked up at her, wanting to face the consequences of his actions. “I killed Vexation. He is dead by my fault.”

                Malaya fell back a step, hands before her as if to ward off some oncoming attack. “You… you what?” Malaya shook her head violently. “No.” Keenan didn’t move to stop her as she ran away from him. He couldn’t even watch her go. Instead, he reached out to rest his hand on the hilt of her fallen claymore. Tears were burning in his eyes. _I deserve this._      

                “You do. But not death.” Keenan whirled around to see General Vivora standing over him. He blinked his eyes clear, ashamed to have been caught despairing. “I didn’t hear you approach.” She crouched beside him in the muddy tears.

“I know who you are, uncrowned sun king. You look like Anasterian.” She mused.

“You knew I was a Sunstrider? How long?” Keenan couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“Always. You have your father’s brow.”

“And you were listening. What did you hear?” His question was hesitant.

“Enough.” She sighed. “Keenan, I knew Kael intimately. His cause was justified. It was his means that hindered his judgment. You did not murder Malaya’s Vexation intentionally.” Keenan’s face was a mask of white terror and unabashed alarm. Her smile was almost cruel.

“You too talk in your sleep.” She looked away to where Malaya had gone. “She isn’t far, contemplating the blow you served her.” Keenan followed her gaze.

“I think she’s always known. It-I didn’t mean to separate them permanently. I only wanted a chance.” His voice broke.

“To be with her.” He added 

They sat and stared in the mist of night.

“Go. You will find her.” She rose with Malaya’s claymore and held it out to him. “Take this. It’s still her choice.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please leave a helpful comment and let me know what you think!  
> I hope you enjoyed!


	5. No Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malaya and Keenan break under the pressure of Keenan's revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, This is the last chapter I wrote before I lost the flame of writing. I hope to pick up the torch in the future but who knows? 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the 5th chapter! 
> 
> If you've read this far into my crap, my hat's off to you!

Malaya’s chest rose and fell with rapid succession. Each ragged breath clawed its way out of her burning throat. All at once, the feeling of nausea swept over her. She had to stop. Almost too late, she leaned over a tree and began to vomit.

                What is this? What is this! She braced herself as another wave of nausea took her to the ground. Alone, she is alone. A feeling of intoxicating horror crept through her veins. Why does she feel so helpless? “Dead,” she giggled. “Dead, dead, dead,” manic laughter raddled her fragile frame. “Hmm hmm hmm hmm...” she sing song chuckled.

“Malaya?” She froze. Everything in the universe froze, clinging for dear life on her name. “Malay… I- Malaya?”

                She felt like tearing off her skin in anxiety. Couldn’t he say anything else? Why her name? It was like her own personal hell, her name being said by him, friend, prince, brother, and murderer. Where was Vexation? He could make this better. Her shattered world would make sense. If only _he_ would say her name. If only he were- “Bwahahahahahahahahaaaaa!!!”

 

Keenan's POV:

 

Keenan had followed her voice into the deep part of the forest, the dangerous part. Her sporadic laughter frightened him, but he hoped she would laugh again. Otherwise, he may never find her. “Malay-” 

                “Death! Death! It Smells! It Burns! I’m burning!” Her terrible shrieks were coming from an ancient ash behind him. He turned back towards his manic friend. After several paces he found her. She was slumped over the edge of the ash, covered in vomit, shaking. His heart pulsed so violently in that moment; he had to tear his gaze away from her quivering form. A deep mix of repulse and guilt throbbed in his chest. This was his doing. He caused her this misery. It was obvious that killing Vexation would have killed Malaya also, eventually; but, seeing her this way had brought him face to face with the cost of his jealousy. It was ugly and sad and his to suffer. He knew nothing would right this. Not even his death. But then again, perhaps Malaya doesn’t want what’s right anymore. Perhaps she wants revenge, closure. He sighed, turning back to her. She was looking up at him now. Deep green eyes full of pain were pleading with him a plea he couldn’t place. He smiled, but all attempted comfort and apology were lost to him. It was her choice weather he would be forgiven or die for his actions and he could tell that she had chosen. 

                “I can give you that.” He raised her claymore above them both. Moonlight gleaned off it sickly white. “I will give you what you ache for.” His grip tightened.

 

Malaya's POV:

 

Malaya’s eyes widened. Was he going to kill her too? She did ache for death a moment ago… and maybe still, but this was certainly not how she envisioned dying. Not by his hand, her own blade. No, not this way! The thought was enough to bring her out from under the night veil of desolation. Self preservation took over. In that moment, she wanted something she had never fathomed. She wanted blood, _his_ blood. She wanted him to bleed in anguish and die.

                But that was when the moon lit his face and she saw. Keenan didn’t look like a murderer. He looked like a man with sad eyes and a worn soul who had just made some horrible peace with himself, a man desperate for redemption. Was he going to kill her or himself? A chill settled into her pours. One of them will be dead for sure. Keenan shook his head, as if answering her question. 

“Penance,” he smiled weakly. His muscles tightened abruptly, ready to spring. Her heart stopped. No, she didn’t want _this_. Death was not penance and revenge wouldn’t bring Vexation back. Nothing would come from this. “Keenan!” She screamed, but her scream was simultaneous with the claymore’s motion as it cleaved the air above him. The claymore would hit him no matter what she did, but she knew more about her weapon than he did.  It may crack his skull, but it wouldn’t kill him, if she stopped the bleeding long enough for Alastar to heal him. 

                There wasn’t time to think. Before another moment passed, she barreled into his legs with the full power of her weight. Keenan shuffled back and fell with her. There was a massive shatter as the claymore made contact with the ground. Her head exploded with white hot pain. She could smell the dirt beneath her face, taste it, but despite her best efforts it was too blurry to see. She closed her eyes hard and concentrated on what she needed to do. It took her a moment to form something intelligible. Her mind was against her. It was like trudging through waist high mud. She knew she was in pain. No, that wasn’t quite it. She knew she was injured because she was in pain. Her head was injured because it was in pain. Yes, there it is! And because of this, thinking is difficult. She focused on the dirt beneath her. Let it center her. She already knew she was on the ground. She knew it felt good because the earth was warm. It was soft and warm and soothing to her injured head. The only thing that was unpleasant was the wet feeling. The ground was wet. She tried to open her eyes again and gave up immediately. Everything was too bright and blurry. She refocused on the ground. Testing her smell, she concentrated on more than just the smell of the dirt. At first, she could only smell the dirt and dried vomit. She concentrated harder on the smell of the water in it. It took a long moment of doubt, but a familiar smell did come to her. Her brain was slow to process the aroma. She knew it wasn’t water because it had a heavy metallic sent to it, like a sword hilt. She could feel its heat as she pulled it into her nostrils. The synapses in her brain made an abrupt connection: body heat.

                The ground was soft and the wet was warm because the ground was a stomach and the wet was blood. She forced her eyes open and craned her neck. Searing waves of pain rolled over her like a tide. In this position she could feel it, the blood, sticky, warm cakes of it covering her entire left profile. If she really looked hard, blood dipped eyelash hairs came into focus.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment with suggestions or encouragement if you have any. If you have an idea of where the plot should go or want me to resurrect this work, please tell me. I would love to have the flame for this story rekindled. 
> 
> Thank you all so much and I hope you've enjoyed reading!


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